August: The Novel

“two waysstill even todaywritten on a stoneas the black bird flies above the tombout back in the field of blue and berriesthat old woman still stomping on his remainsover a misbehaved  no one has to hold the blameheard he left her mistakeguess she hadthe whole town convinced till the walking deadsaid they need the landfor a parking spaceto build something grandSo the city saidalmost took a bullet to her headUntil she realized she is not better off dead so she whispered to chipcome snow come rain I shall never leave this graveand then she prayed as the son gaveher another chance to choose one oftwo ways”